Upon a Memory and a Sword
by Sassiersphinx81
Summary: AC/Devil May Cry/Avengers Crossover. Desmond wanted normal. That went south when Fury walked into Bad Weather with a proposal. Help find the Infinity Stones, mainly time, and be forever forgotten by all. The problem. It's lost in a memory that he can't access. Dante wants normal, but is pulled into a fight that he never wanted a part of, but has no choice.
1. Chapter 1

_June 14__th__, 2002_

The morning sun began to rise in the east as sixteen year old Desmond Miles leaned up against a large oak, slowing his breathing from the dangerous trek through the mountains. It had been a long night. One that he thought would have never come. The planning, the secretly marking of the paths. It was all in preparation for the day that he was now in. The day he would be free. Free from all the mumbo jumbo his father had tried to implant into his brain since he was old enough to understand words. Free to be what he wanted to be and free to do what he wanted.

Sliding down the trunk, the bark biting into the back of his shirt, and then, for reasons unknown to him, Desmond began to laugh. He didn't know what brought on the euphoria that he was feeling, and no words could explain, but it could only be classified as happy and free. Freedom was something that he had never experienced before. Never being off the Farm, or out of the woods. Lights could be seen in the distance, and for the first time in sixteen years, he had a choice.

Once back on solid feet, and the bag of provisions on his back, Desmond began to make the trek once more out of the woods, following the river until he saw a paved road.

_March 30th, 2012_

"I told you once before, Nick, I don't have the right genes. I can't access the memories that you need to find." William Miles threw his legs over the edge of the chair, letting his head drop into his hands. "And Altair is my wife's ancestor, not mine. I couldn't access it even if I wanted to."

Nick Fury growled in annoyance. They were running out of time, and ironically, they were looking for the Time Stone, one of five stones being hunted out by Hydra, and Thanos. So turning to his long-time friend, he asked. "So who can search them for us? You have to know someone. A relative of hers, preferably a male. Females can't step into male ancestors memories most of the time."

William got to his feet, and there was an audible crack that filled the room from where the older assassin popped his back. "I only know of one, and that would be my son, Desmond."

Fury's one eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed quickly. "And when were you going to tell anyone that you had a son? We could have been done by now.

The assassin met the agent's glare with one of his own. "I didn't tell anyone because I can't find him!" That knocked Fury back a step. "Desmond ran away almost ten years ago. No one has heard from him since. There's been reports of him being spotted in various cities all over the States, but every time I go and investigate, the boy vanishes once more. Different name, different look, different job. He never does the same thing twice, and never stays somewhere more than a few months to a year at most.

"I tracked him one time to Florida where I missed picking up his trail by three days." William turned and looked out over the Potomac River. "Three days! And I missed him. That was nearly two years ago. A few reports have trickled in from time to time about spotting him in Boston, Niagara Falls, and as far away as Texas, but nothing in the last few months. Either he went completely underground, or he was killed somewhere." That was the worst pain of all. Not knowing what was going on with his son.

Stepping next to his friend, Fury sighed. "Look, I'll run a scan through the system, see if anything pops up, but I will need everything you have from him. An old photo, fingerprints, anything that could possibly generate a lead."

Nodding his head, William kept his eyes on the calming waters below. "I'll see what I can dig up."

_September 1__st__, 2012 10:49 AM_

The sounds of the city woke Desmond from a dream. He was back at the Farm, and daily life was the way he once remembered. People milling about, a few practicing basic skills. It was all the same, but what caused his steps to falter was the sight of his mother. She stood in a small clearing, light brown eyes to the sky. Desmond favored his mother in many ways. From the color of their eyes, to the slight wave in their hair.

But she stood there, unmoving for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only been a few minutes, and she just looked on. As if all the answers to life's mysteries lay in those white clouds. His father wasn't around, and that wasn't anything uncommon. William had always been in and out when he was younger. Not staying more than a handful of days at a time, then he was gone once more, leaving his 'training' to one of the other men that lived on the Farm.

Sitting up in the small bed he currently owned, the young man ran a hand down his face. He could still see his mother's face when he closed his eyes. The look that was there as she looked towards the heavens. Could she be thinking about him? William? There was no way of knowing, and yes at times, he wondered if she missed him, but there was not a chance in hell he was going back to that… that prison. Out in the real world, he was free to choose what he wanted to do. Free to be who he wanted to be. It was something that Desmond had always wanted, and for almost ten years, was what he was living. Paycheck to paycheck, but it was his life. His way.

So, taking himself from the bed, Desmond grabbed his clothes for the day, laying them out, and climbed into a hot shower.

_September 1__st__, 2012 5:02 PM_

"Target has been spotted." A lone figure watched from a distance away as his target, a one Desmond Miles, walked from the shabby apartment complex just inside the Bronx. Not the most savory neighborhood, but the kid had been on the lamb for years now.

'Do not lose him, no matter what. I heard reports that they're looking for him too. No sense spooking him just yet.' Fury spoke into his head from the earpiece. 'I have been hunting for him for a few months now.'

"You know, for a kid who was supposed to be hiding from the world, he was sure dumb in getting a driver's license." The man shook his head in wonder as to what was going on in the kid's head to do something as stupid as what he was found for.

'Hey, don't ask me, but I'm honestly glad he did because I doubt anyone would have found him another way.' Sighing, he knew Fury was frustrated. Too much was riding on finding Desmond Miles and finding out what lay in his head. 'Keep a tail on him until I can get there. I mean it, Hawkeye, don't lose that kid.'

And the connection went silent before Hawkeye had a chance to retort. Why he got picked for babysitting duty was beyond him, but it was a mission, and that was one thing he tried not to do. Screw up a mission. So, he sat on the rooftop, sweat making tracks down the sides of his face, collecting in the collar of his shirt. It wasn't the most glamorous job, sure, but it beat what he was supposed to be doing. It was either watch Miles, or stakeout a warehouse with ties to a company known to have dealings with Hydra. Natasha chose the warehouse, and passed this off on him.

Looking through the binoculars, he watched the kid turn the corner, and down the street towards the bar he worked at, get this, for the past seven months. The bad thing was, he had been there a few times in his off time, which wasn't much nowadays.

From his vantage point, he could watch the whole street and not miss a single thing. It was rather boring, and frankly, he would have rather been anywhere but there. But this was an assignment and that's what he was told to do. So sucking it up, Hawkeye crouched low on the roof, watching his target enter the bar.

"He's in the bar." And grabbing the bag at his feet, the archer walked over to the fire escape, and climbed down to street level.

_9:47 PM_

Fury watched from the corner table as the kid, Desmond, finished mixing a drink, then wiped down bar once he was finished. Not that he had spilled any, but he kept his hands busy. His father, William, had the same trait, and Fury chalked it up to the assassin training, or whatever they put themselves through. The routine that the Brotherhood did was not widely known, but they were helpful, when it suited their own purpose. Now that his and their needs aligned, it was easier to get some much needed info from the elusive assassins.

Once the patrons had abandoned the bar, the director saw an opening he needed. So picking up his empty glass, Fury made his way to the bar, and took a seat. The kid walked over, face showing only a slight smile. "What can I get you?" Desmond asked him.

"Scotch on the rocks." Fury answered and watched him work. Quickly the drink was sat in front of him, and a bill was slipped onto bar top.

"Anything else for you?" He asked, and Fury smirked.

"Yeah, I do." That got a brow raised. "Your help. Desmond." His hand stilled on the bar top, brown eyes widened a bit. "Yes, I know who you are, and what you are."

"You have me confused with someone else. I'm just a bartender." Desmond finally looked at him, face neutral, but from years of reading people, Fury knew the boy was rocked to the core, and debating on running.

Shaking his head, the director shook his head, and took a sip from his glass. "I know who you are, and I'm not here to make trouble with you. Actually, I'm here to get your help."

That got a snort, but Desmond kept his composer well, acting like they were having a friendly conversation. "Don't know what use I'd be. Like I said, I'm just a bartender, but hell, I'll bite. What could you possibly need from me?"

Laying both arms on the bar, Fury met his eyes. "I assume you've heard of SHIELD?" The kid nodded. "Good, because that's who you would be helping. When you get off tonight, one of my guys will bring you in and everything will be explained. To many eyes and ears out here in the open if you know what I mean."

A small nod. "Look, I'll hear you out, but if it's something I don't like, or not willing to do, I want your word I can still walk away. No promises until I know exactly what you want."

He would agree to that. "Fine, but you are going to be watched. If you try to run, I will have you brought in without your permission. Do you understand that?"

**Hello to all! This is an attempt at an Assassin's Creed/Devil May Cry/Avengers crossover. This chapter is just to get the ball rolling. It's a request from Darkmystery1, and I am so sorry it's taken me so long to get this up for you. Merry Christmas to all!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello once more! Chapter two is here, and now that the crazy holidays are over, maybe I might find more time to devote to my stories. If some of the characters are OOC I will apologize ahead of time. Again, been really crazy here in my nut house! So onward!**

Dante shook his head in disbelief in what he had just heard. Morrison leaned back in his chair, eyes forward, just watching. "There's not a chance in Hell that could happen, right?" The younger man grabbed his gun holster from the counter, and slipped his arms into the openings. "Mundus was put down, and locked away. What does this group, this Hydra, have to bring him back now?"

Morrison shrugged. "I don't know, Dante, but whatever they're planning, you know it can't be good. They also have help."

"Help? Help as in who?" There was only a few people in the world, and he could count on one hand how many that was, that had knowledge on how to release the demon from his cage.

"Vergil."

That was a name that caused his blood to run cold, and his hands to still on the various buckles of the holster. His brother, twin brother, was going to help them. Nothing in that was going to end well for any of the people involved. Mundus was not one to be controlled and neither was Vergil. Either they had something on him, or there was a shit ton of money greasing his pale palm.

So looking at the man who brought him work, and information, Dante sighed once more, letting his head fall. "Tell me everything you know. I have to figure out what they're planning and stop this before it gets to the point of no return." And if they managed to release that demon… Well, he didn't want to think about that. There wasn't a chance he was going to let that happen.

_A few hours later_

"Your brother is a fool, Dante." Trish checked the edge of her blade before sliding it home in its sheath. "Why would he do something like that?" Her crystalline blue eye met his, and there was something there that he could only call fear.

Trish feared Mundus. And there was a good reason. The demon had created her from the image of Dante's dead mother to lure him to his death, but Trish knew right from wrong and in the end had decided to help Dante stop Mundus instead of allowing him to destroy everything. From there they had become slight partners, helping each other when the job required more than what either can handle.

"I don't know, but I aim to find out. This is something I though he would never attempt. There is no controlling Mundus, and we all know this." That was stating the obvious. Vergil was an idiot of epic proportions for what he was undertaking, but that's what happens when one brother is completely evil, and the other tried to hide what he was.

Dante had always wondered what it would have been like to be normal. To not be half demon/half human. To be a normal person, with a normal family, in a normal town. He and Vergil could have grown up together, and not hate one another. Maybe gone to school, had double dates, or hell, just talked. But that was a pipe dream more now than ever. Vergil was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum that him, and there was nothing in the world that could change that now.

So the two of them gathered their things in haste to find out anything they could.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

After the bar had been wiped down for what had to be the millionth time that night, the liquor restocked, glasses hung up on the racks and stacked neatly behind the mahogany bar, Desmond knew he was out of reasons to stay. Fury had told him there was no way from him to run, but what the man didn't know was the ex-assassin knew every back way out of the bar and had enough contingency plans to escape detection. Just in case his father, or one of his assassin lackeys got a lucky break and found him when he was at work.

After collecting the tips for the night, close to two hundred dollars and his check, Desmond grabbed his bag from the back room, and before anyone was the wiser, opened the hatch to the sewer. The building that housed the bar was old, like turn of the century old. It had passages that no one knew about, except him from his exploring of the old structure.

Wrinkling his nose from the smell of the stale air and stagnant water, the brunette made his way down the aging pipe, ducking in a few places to dodge braining himself, flashlight securely in his hand. The exit would take him out several blocks north of the bar, then from there it was a hop, skip and a jump to the nearest subway station, then out of the damn city before anyone was the wiser. There was a place about an hour outside of the city that would cash his check, and put him on the run once more. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to work for anyone attached to the government. Yeah, not going to happen.

The sounds of the city could be heard above him as he dodged a particularly questionable piece of, well, something at the bottom of the culvert pipe he was in. It could have been a body, big enough, or it could have been just a large collection of trash. He wasn't about to stop and find out. "Ugh, I should have taken to the roof." Desmond grumbled to himself and gagged as he passed another small connecter pipe. The smell alone was almost enough to make him run back in the direction he came, but the government was standing back there, and that was somewhere he did want to be.

Twenty minutes later, after taking a wrong turn, Desmond finally emerged from the pipe where he wanted to be, taking in a large lungful of fresh, but not to fresh, air. It was still New York after all. If the smell didn't get you at times, the smog would. A thousand plus cars running at all ends of the day, up and down the island. Yeah, there was more pollution on Manhattan than where he was born.

"You know, if you're going to run, make sure it's a different path, and not the sewers. That's a given."

The hackles came up, and the blade was pulled as the bartender turned, knife at ready. A man stood there, arms crossed over his chest, lips pulled into a frown. "Who the hell are you?" Desmond growled, grip tightening on the small hunting blade in his off hand. It wasn't the most comfortable grip, but at least he knew he would be fine in a fight. The flashlight was still in his primary hand, and with his knowledge of hand to hand combat, he could wield both.

The guy pushed off the wall lazily. "Didn't Fury tell you to stay put and not run?"

Taking a step back, he knew there was a chance he could outrun the guy if he could catch him off-guard. "Yeah, and I'm not one to listen too well. If Fury knows my dad, and I'm pretty sure he does, then he would know that already."

"Look kid…" But Desmond cut him off.

"I'm not a kid, asshole, and you couldn't be no more than a few years older than me. So let's knock off the buddy routine and tell me why you're really here." He wasn't about to deal with this shit when his chance at freedom was only a few blocks away. A contingency plan was forming in his head. He knew the subway routes, and the times. The way the people flowed in and out of the platform he was wanting. It was one he frequented often. Just another minute.

That actually got a smirk from the man in front of him. "I feel too damn old half the time, but you're right, I'm not much older than you, but I'm pretty sure in an all-out fight I can kick your scrawny ass up and down this island. So don't make me. I don't want you to look bad."

A snort came from Desmond. "Whatever. Look, I don't want anything to do with Fury or SHIELD, or the assassins for that matter. If Fury knows where I'm at, then it's a pretty safe bet that the assassins won't be that far behind. I'm not about to let that dick throw damn near ten years of hiding out the window for something I ran from. I don't want to be an assassin. I don't want anything to do with them, and I don't want anything to do with what's cooking in Fury's head. Now, if you'll excuse me." And chucked the flashlight, distracting the idiot.

Turning swiftly on light feet, Desmond ran like he hadn't in years. It wasn't like he was out of shape, he exercised on a regular basis, but it was free running he was out of practice with. So up the edge of the canal, the ex-assassin grabbed the edge, throwing himself onto the bank. Heavy footfalls could be heard behind him, but he paid no mind. There was not a chance in hell that he was going to let himself be caught.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"What do you mean the kid got away?"

Tony Stark looked at the director of SHEILD with a raised brow. There had been talk about finding a suitable candidate for the venture into the Animus, but now to find out the guy that he had found had gotten away. That was actually laughable.

"Well find him. That way I can kill him." Fury was in prime fighting mood, making Tony's night even more. When Fury turned and looked at him, the man raised a finger. "So help me, Stark, you make any quip about this, and I will bury you under so much red tape, you won't be able to go anywhere without a cop issuing you a ticket for something. You won't be able to sneeze without an agent being there. Do you understand me?"

Grinning, Tony flopped down on his sofa. "Hey, I wasn't going to say a word. So you lost someone. Not the first time, right?"

"So help me." The darker man growled, making Tony grin wider.

"Want me to do a sweep of the city and see what I can find? I'm pretty sure I'm faster than anyone out there." And he knew that for a fact.

"Barton could use backup. I have him searching for him now." And with that, Fury walked from the penthouse, and disappeared into the waiting elevator.

Getting to his feet once more, Tony walked towards the door to the balcony. "Hey Jarvis, how's the Mach five?" He grabbed the earpiece off the counter as he walked past the bar.

"_**Power has been restored to the main thrusters, but only seventy-eight percent in combat effectiveness, sir. There are still fluxuations in the reactor. Might I suggest taking the Mach four if you are just going for a nightly fly? All systems are fully functional." **_

"Naw, I need to see how bad the lag is in the thrusters. It was horrid the last time I took it out a few nights ago. Got to see what I need to do to get it to a hundred percent." The suit had been giving him fits since he fixed it after the removal of the arch reactor in his chest. The suit now had its own power supply, but for some reason it wasn't working the way he had hoped.

"_**Then might I suggest a low fly by on a closed course. That way if something was to happen, then you would be able to abandon the suit with little worry to your own health, sir. I hate to hear you het yelled at once more by Ms. Potts for being reckless." **_

Stepping onto the platform, Tony triggered the process in allowing merger with the Iron Man suit. Metal arches moved around him, placing the various pieces on his limbs and chest. They began to lock down, and he could hear the hum of the suit as it came to life around him. The last part was the face mask, his HUD controls, and Jarvis in his ear.

"Systems check, Jarvis. What are we looking at?" Tony took a step forward, and felt a few of the servos in the right leg were a bit sluggish. That would have to be looked at in the morning.

"_**Right thruster at ninety-one percent. Left thruster at ninety-seven. Combat missiles offline do to power conservation, but pulse thrusters are operational. Let us hope that you do not have to fight tonight." **_

Chuckling, Tony grinned. "The only thing I might get into a fight with is a rogue rat from the sewers. How's communications?"

"_**Functioning as it should. Flight check complete. You are ready at any time, sir." **_

So with that being said, he took off into the night sky. He may have been Iron Man for a few years now, but it was still surreal to fly among the clouds with nothing to hold him down. The only fear sometimes was running out of power, or something breaking. But that wasn't going to happen tonight. A simple fly around the city at roof level, testing the systems, working a few bugs out as he went along, and enjoying a nice peaceful flight. It was a good night.

That was until Hawkeye's signature came up on the screen, showing him running. Opening communications, Tony quipped. "Out for a late night run?"

'_Something like that. Guess you know about Fury's runaway project?'_ The archer sounded a little out of breath.

"Yeah, and man was he pissed. Guess you found him?" Turning in that direction, Tony knew he could at least test maneuverability that way.

'_Yeah, and this guy is fast. Can you intervene? I am not about to chase him all over this city. Been running for seven blocks now, and he's doing moves that would give Spiderman a run for his money. He has to be part monkey._'

"I got him. Give me a description and I'll grab him." Moving in lower, he felt the lower thrusters cut for a millisecond before resuming full function. Well, as full as they were.

"_**Sir, I've detecting a spike in primary power. Shall I run diagnostic?"**_

"I need to know everything, Jarvis." Tony wasn't about to waste this opportunity. It was chance to know what was going on. It was easier to know what was happening when the suit ran off the same power that kept the shrapnel away from his heart, but with that removed, it became a whole different ballgame when powering the suit. The circuits had been a bit touch and go, taking months to get the system just right. Starting over was the hardest part.

"_**Indeed sir. Running full system scan now."**_

Tony came down within twenty feet from the ground as Barton told him who to look out for. White hoodie, blue jeans, crazy ninja moves. That described a few dozen guys in New York alone, but there was only one guy that came up on his radar, running like someone had lit his ass on fire.

"Got him." And swooped in from the grab.

The guy leapt up onto a dumpster, jumped to the right, his foot pushing off the brick wall, propelling him over an eight foot chain link fence. But his sneakers didn't touch the ground, because Tony grabbed him just as he cleared the top.

"What the fuck?" The guy cried out as they sailed into the night sky. "Ah shit! Please don't drop me!" His hands grabbed at the metal ones above him.

"Calm down. I've near dropped anyone. Well, there was that one time, but he lived." Tony laughed as the kid's heart rate accelerated. "Now I'm going to take you back to Barton, and you're going to be a good little boy. Don't make me snatch you up again."

With a dejected sigh, the kid nodded. "Fine, just put me back down on solid ground."

So that's what he did. Turning in mid-flight, Tony found Barton leaned up against a building, breathing nearly back to normal. Dropping the kid off, Barton looked over at him. "Thanks for the save, but you might want to get out of here before the tourists begin to swarm."

Looking over his shoulder, he saw a few cars beginning to slow, and several more on foot beginning to pull out phones to snap a picture of the famous Iron Man. "I think you might be right. Drinks tomorrow?"

"Sure." Barton smirked as he grabbed ahold of the kid's arm. "As for you…"

"Yeah sure, I get it." And under his breath, he heard the words 'jerkwad' and 'jackass'.

Tony didn't stick around for the rest as he saw the black SUV come around the corner. He'd see the kid later since everything was set up in Stark Towers. So taking back to the sky, he watched the readouts of what Jarvis had been finding. Many of the servos were sticking, and power was spiking. Looked like it was back to the drawing board in the morning to find another solution to his never-ending problems. Pepper was going to chew him a new ass for more time spent on the suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Desmond shot the camera in the small room a glare before plopping down in the chair. Fury groaned in annoyance at the arrogance the boy was showing to them at that moment. William shook his head. "I see the years on his own has not diminished his attitude towards authority."

"I bet it's probably worse now since the last time you saw him." Fury turned from the monitor before he put his fist through the thin glass. The boy had caused two of the Avengers to hunt him down, and almost gave one the slip. The boy had better be worth the trouble, and be able to do what was needed to be done. "You had better be right about him being able to access the memories. If not, well, let's just say we are out of options."

The duo walked from the room, the echoes of boots rang off the metal plates beneath them. Both men were lost in thought, both concerning the upcoming talk with the younger Miles. Fury knew Desmond, for all his attitude and rigid upbringing, didn't strike him as a fighter. A scrapper maybe, but only backed into a corner. He could have tried to fight Barton at the end of that tunnel, but chose to run. To escape and disappear once more.

As they approached the door to the room that held Desmond, William cleared his throat. "Nick, I will wait out here. The last time my son and I were in the same room, a few punches were thrown, and that was the night he ran. So, for the sake of peace, and trying to get him to help willingly, I'll wait out here."

Fury could understand that. They both wanted Desmond to help under his own free will, but if it came down to it, he would make the boy do it. To protect the lives of many, he was willing to sacrifice one. So with a curt nod, the Director walked into the room.

Desmond glared at him as the door closed behind him. "Well, you caught me. Now what did you what from me?"

Pulling out a chair, he took a seat, getting comfortable in the chair. "Like I told you at the bar, your help."

Snorting, Desmond leaned forward until his elbows rested on his bent legs, hands hanging between them. "Alright, let's hear it. What do you need from a bartender? Mix you a few drinks for friends? Tell you a few good recipes for cocktails? That's about all the help I can give you."

Fury could damn near feel the hatred radiating from the kid that sat in front of him. At least he knew where the hostility was coming from. He may have been friends with William Miles, and they had done many missions together in their youth, but the man could try the patience of a saint at times. The man was also hard-headed and stubborn. It seemed his son was the same way.

"Look, I can't give you all the details because some of it escapes me. Stark can tell you more, but I want you to go into this with an open mind. Your work would help save the world." And with that line got peals of laughter to come from Desmond.

"Oh!" He laughed harder. "Oh that is rich! You think I can help you save the world! The top secret spy organization needs a bartender to save the world." Then the laughter stopped and a seriously bored expression overtook his tanned features. "Now tell me the truth. What the hell do you want with me?"

One to not mince words, Fury replied. "For you to help save the world."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"What do you mean the subject is gone?" Doctor Warren Vidic looked up from the computer screen, forehead creased in a perpetual scowl.

The man in front of him nodded before clearing his throat, a clear sign of nervousness in his posture. "The subject entered his place of work at the time you spoke of, but never came out. I sent an operative in, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had vanished."

Cursing under his breath, Vidic stood and looked out at the New York skyline. "I want him found, no matter the cost. Too much is at stake for him to slip through our fingers. Too much time has been invested in finding him. Now get out there and I don't care if you have to turn this damned city on its head, find Desmond Miles at all costs."

Footfalls echoes off the floor as the guard scurried out of the office. Letting out a sigh, Vidic knew it was not going to be easy to find Miles if he did not wish it. It had taken nearly four years to track him to his point, and time was running out. The map to the remaining artifacts had only shone itself to one man, and he had been dead for nearly a thousand years.

Growling in frustration, the scientist turned from the glowing lights of the outside, deciding to focus on the task at hand.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Desmond knew what he was hearing was the biggest load of horse shit he had ever heard in his life, but he would play along. For now. Well, until he was able to figure out a way to remove himself from the picture once more. There were many routes out of the city, and from many trial and errors, he had figured out a few good ones to use. All he had to do was get back to his place, grab his bug out bag that held another fake identification, cash, and a few changes of clothes. California was looking really good.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fury asked, and Desmond could hear the anger in his voice.

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. "You need something from me. Well, not me, but a memory. Something one of my ancestors saw, or had. Don't know how you plan on doing that, but I think I want off the crazy train now." Standing, the bartender headed for the door. He was so done with the bullshit.

"What if I can prove to you what I'm saying is true? What if I show you?"

His hand stilled on the handle. "Why do you need this so damn bad? Why do you need me so damn bad?"

"Because you're the last living male descendant. You're the only one that can do this." The chair legs scrapped the ground telling Desmond that Fury had stood behind him. "If there was any other way believe me, I would have taken it. So far you have proven more than a handful, and I have a feeling you're still trying to figure out a way to get out of here. You can forget that. This building has its own security grid, laser turrets, and an AI that keeps everything in line. You're not going anywhere unless I say it's alright."

Silence settled over the room as Desmond took it all in. There was not chance for escape. No way to get away, and so he was effectively under this man's control. Just like when he was on the Farm, and that sent his blood boiling in his veins. A vow was made to himself nearly ten years ago, to never be controlled once more, had been taken from him in a night. He was a prisoner, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

So, hanging his head, Desmond knew defeat. "Show me what I have to do."

**Hey! Sorry for the wait! OMG! My job is literally trying to kill me. I have been working nearly an hour longer every night, then the half hour drive back home leaves little time to finish anything. But I know this is short, but mainly a filler. The cooler things will be coming up, so don't worry. And I promise I won't take so long this time. See ya!**


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was beginning to rise, washing the land in the fiery brilliance of the morning sun, leaving Daunte yawning, fighting sleep that his body so desperately craved. But that was not to happen. He had to find out what was going on to make his brother want to work with average men and women. It didn't happen often, and he knew that there was something amiss in all the chaos that he had seen in the night before.

Virgil still had not made an appearance, and for that the half demon was thankful his twin was still hiding in the shadows. As too was he, but of other reasons. For he knew that if he went in there, not fully understanding the scope of what lay before him, he would miss key elements in the whole story. A story he needed to know. So in the shadows he watched the transactions of goods trading hands, and artifacts being brought in.

The artifacts were what had him intrigued most of all. Demon in origin, he could tell from the markings on a few he was able to get close enough to observe. No one spoke of what was there, leaving him only to speculate what was going on with everything.

Another yawn came from his lips, leaving him rubbing the grit from his sore eyes. Sleep was going to claim his body, it was only a matter of time, but Daunte fought it off like he did everything else. With determination, and shear will of his being. Eyes began to drift shut, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Here."

Daunte turned his head to see Trish holding out a steaming cup of what smelled like coffee. "Two creams, heavy on the sugar, and a shot of espresso." Her ruby lips lifted at the corner as he took the cup into his hands.

"Thanks." Taking a tentative sip, the warm liquid poured over his tongue. Just the right about of sugar.

Taking a seat beside him on the ledge, she picked up the binoculars that had been sitting in that place. "Learn anything new?" She asked, eyes scanning the comings and goings.

Shaking his head, a sigh escaped. "No, and truthfully, that's what has me worried. Virgil wouldn't go through all this trouble to hide what he was doing. There has to be something else that we're not seeing, or hell, even understanding. But if we rush in there, all of them are going to go underground, and that will be the end of that."

"Well, we might not have to wait long to see what they're about to do." And she pressed the binoculars into his hand, taking the cup in the same motion.

Raising them to his face, his eyes widened when Daunte caught a glimpse of Virgil entering the area. Two men in business suits, the same two that had been signing for everything, approached. Now he was thankful he could read lips, because they were too far to hear.

"_Is everything I requested here?"_ Vigil snarled at the men, who were stone-faced towards the man.

"_Everything artifact you requested as been delivered, save one, which sadly were have been unable to procure."_ The older man with the graying temples spoke next. _"It will take more time than what we currently have."_

"_Where is it? If I have to, I'll get it myself. Nothing can go wrong when Mundus is summoned. If one thing is missing, then all of this preparation will be for nothing. And I don't think your boss will be too pleased if I am unable to do what needs to be done because you two can't get one damn piece."_

Daunte arched a brow at that. One piece was missing from the whole plan. One piece. And it was as if he had been struck by lightning. They were after the piece he owned. The way into the demon realm. "Shit."

Trish looked at him. "Want to fill me in?" She asked.

"We need to get back to the office, and I'll fill you in on the way. Besides, we need to get out of here before Virgil figures out that I'm here." His brother was always good about that.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"Altair, you cannot be serious. That thing is a danger to not only yourself, but this entire land." Malik Al-Sayf shook his head as he shelved a book he had finished with. "You know nothing of its power, and what he can truly do. You must be rid of it."

Altair Ibn-La'Ahad allowed his eyes to slide shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I understand your trepidations about this, Malik, but I hold onto it for the safety of all. I understand a bit of what it can do, but not the full function. I must understand why it was hidden the way it was in order to keep it out of Templar hands."

Malik groaned, resting his head against the shelf in front of him. "Allah give me strength." He muttered.

"You will not find strength in him, only in yourself." The Grandmaster snorted, leaning against the wall, eyes watching everything.

Turning to him friend, the Dai chuckled humorlessly. "I look for the strength to not harm you, Altair. You could try the patience of Allah himself most of the time, do you know that?"

The cocky smirk raised the corner of his scarred lips, giving Malik more reason to stay his hand. The man was more infuriating that most apprentices. "So I have been told."

"Because it is the truth, Novice." And smirked himself when his pet name for the assassin grandmaster caused the man to frown tightly. "You speak, but I doubt very much that you understand your own words. That stone is dangerous, and you wish to understand it. That in itself is dangerous to me. You are trying to grasp something that no one, besides its creator, knows. Knowledge can be a heavy burden to bear, and you wish to know it all."

"I wish to understand, that way I can keep it safe. There is a reason for its appearance, and for that, I want to know its magic." Altair pushed himself from the wall, and pulled the small silk pouch from his pocket. Even incased, there was a light pulsing from the stone through the dark silk. It was similar to the Apple in that manner, but they worked differently from one another. But reacted to each other in ways that still left him reeling from the sights. "There must be a reason."

'_Desmond.'_

The world began to fall around him, leaving him in the white start up room of the Animus. _'I'm going to pull you out now. You've been in there too long.'_

"But I was getting close to knowing what he knew." But Desmond had learned that arguing with Tony was pointless. "Just push me through a few more hours."

"_No one knows what that amount of time in the Animus will do to the human mind. I'm pulling you out now."_

Desmond growled to himself, but knew they were being cautious. Not two days before the ex-bartender had flipped out on Barton, yelling at him in ancient, not modern, Arabic. It wasn't Desmond that had been in control of his mind that day, but another force entirely. Like being on the other side of a window and watching the whole thing play out. Like his times in the Animus.

The white fell out around him, and he could feel the chair under his body, hear the soft hum of the machines around him, and the furious typing of a keyboard. "Damn it." Tony must have run into another problem.

As Desmond's eyes began to readjust to his surrounding, he could tell there had been a shift in the mood. It was heavy, almost oppressive. Like something was coming. Danger, was the only word that screamed in his mind like a banshee, putting his nerves on edge. Not like they weren't there to begin with. Being inside Altair's mind was like walking through a field of landmines blindfolded. The man was brilliant, but there was an edge of ADD there as well. His mind was scattered, and sometimes it was hard for him to focus on one thing.

"If you're up to it, Fury wants to see you. Guess he wants an update on what you've learned." Tony didn't even look up from the monitor he was currently sitting in front of.

"Ugh." Desmond groaned as he sat up. Talking to Fury was not his idea of fun, or exciting. The man had a personality like a bullet train. Only went one direction and that was to the destination. There was no stops in the middle. Yeah, not what he was looking forward to.

So, after finding out where the man was, he took himself there. Fury watched him walk in, and gave a curt nod. "I see you're still in one piece. No more flip outs?"

"Not since the last one." He muttered as he flopped down into one of the nearby chairs. A headache was beginning to make its presence known, just like every other time he came out of the machine. But most of the time he had more time to become re-acclimated to his reality before being thrust through another hoop, or at another person.

"Good." Standing, Fury looked out the large window at the glittering lights of Manhattan. "I think we need to redirect your new found skills."

"Huh?" Raising his head, Desmond looked at him strangely. "What the hell are you talking about? New found skills?"

That's when the door opened and a blonde woman walked in. Hair in an impeccable up do, clothes pressed and perfect. But there was something about her eyes that made him question her. It was the eyes of someone that had seen death. The eyes of a trained killer. An assassin.

But Fury paid him no mind. "Desmond Miles, Lucy Stillman. She knows more about the Animus than even Tony does."

Lucy walked over to him, and held out her hand, which he looked at. "I guess we'll be working together from now on."

Desmond looked from her outstretched hand to her face. "What do you mean, new found skills? Someone what to answer me?"

Taking a step back, and letting her hand fall back to her side, Lucy spoke first. "It's called the Bleeding Effect. Subjects of the Animus often begin to pick up the traits of their ancestors. Fighting abilities, speech patterns, hidden talents. It's been documented that Altair had an ability called Eagle Vision. It's rare in humans, but the trait can be passed on in the genes. A few assassins in history had possessed the talent. A few of those men you are related to."

This was getting a little too strange for him. "Hold on." Taking to his feet, Desmond looked to the man that pulled him into all this mess, to the woman that was now explaining it all. "You mean to tell me because of this machine, I'm going to become Altair? I didn't sign up for this." Backing away, his anger began to get the best of him.

Hands clinched in rage at his side, Desmond wished he could run at that time, but that was not an option. Jarvis would seal the doors, preventing him from leaving. "Start explaining, and don't you dare leave anything out."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Looking down at the bodies around her, Natasha Romanoff snorted as she wiped a small amount of blood from her busted lip. It wasn't supposed to go down like this, but when she had walked into the room, and saw the men, it had been a trap from the get go. Now, they were all either dead, or down for the count. It wasn't hard really. You just had to know where to strike and when to hold back. She was good at that. Really good at that.

'_Widow, do you copy?'_

Groaning, she touched the mic on her earpiece, answering the call from Steve Rodgers, AKA Captain America. "I'm here."

'_You went com black. What were you told about com black in a hostile environment?'_ He sounded pissed, but when it came to their working relationship, he was always pissed about something. Still had the 1940's mindset about women sometimes, and frankly, it pissed her off.

'I'm a spy, Rodgers, it's what I do. If I have to go black for a mission, it's what I have to do." Romanoff growled, making her way to the safe in the corner. She wasn't sure if anything of import was going to be in it, they knew she was coming, but it was better safe than sorry. Too much shit was riding on this mission.

'_But you know I'm here for backup if you need it.'_

"And I didn't. That's why I didn't call you in. I'm a big girl, and can handle a few thugs." It was more than that, and both knew it. There had to be at least twelve men on the ground, armed to a certain extent. Yeah, there were a few rough points, like she was hit in the mouth, but other than that, she was going to walk out of there.

'_That's not what I meant and you know it.'_ God, the man was infuriating!

"I know what you meant, and truthfully, I had the situation under control." Kneeling in front of the safe, she placed her ear to the metal, listening to the tumblers clicking with every turn of the dial.

'_You need to be more of a team player.'_

"And you need to shut up so I can concentrate on getting this safe open." Her fingers didn't miss a beat as they stopped on the correct sequence of numbers, and the opened wide, revealing the contents to the world. "And we have a winner."

Pulling out the files that were needed, Romanoff walked out into the alley towards the waiting car out back. Rodgers leaned against the sports car, ball cap pulled low over his blue eyes. "You could have been killed in there." His argument came out more like a sigh, because it wasn't really worth his breath to argue with her. They both knew nothing was going to change. She didn't do well with people trying to change it. It always ended badly.

"But I wasn't." Climbing into the driver's seat, the spy waited until the soldier's door was shut before firing up the motor and leaving the scene. "Here." She slapped him in the chest with the files she had just retrieved. "Hold onto those for a few minutes."

Rodgers looked at her, brow raised. "And what am I now, your file keeper?"

Smiling, her hand pushed the car into fourth gear. "For now, you just get to sit there, look pretty while I get up back to base."

Anger practically rolled off him, but like the Boy Scout he was, his lips stayed shut.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy looked over the footage of all the sessions Stark had done with Desmond, and they were not pretty. Sure, the billionaire was a genius when it came to computers, but not when it came to people's minds. The Animus was not something that should be taken lightly. It was dangerous in the wrong hands, if not downright deadly in the hands of people that knew nothing about the side effects. Clay came to mind, and she had to wipe away the stray tears from the corner of her eye.

He was a subject that should have been saved, but if she had done so, would have blown her cover in the company, and possibly gotten both of them killed. So, she allowed them, Vidic, to push until there was nothing but a writhering shell of a man that she once knew. In his moments of clarity, he knew who he was, where he was, but in the end, they had become far and few between. And it was all her fault. Her fault.

Slamming the laptop shut, Lucy rubbed her eyes in an effort to rid them of the tears that began to come from them more. This was her nightmare now. It was her issues, and now her job to make sure another person didn't lose their mind to the machine that she had help bring into the world.

'Ms. Stillman, you are needed in the conference room.' The voice of the building's AI, Jarvis, came over the speaker.

"I'm on my way." Heaving out a sigh, the blonde gathered up her computer, notepad, and everything else she might need. Who knew the questions that would be thrown in her direction.

Once everything was gathered, organized, and in her bag, Lucy made her way to the conference room to meet with whomever she was suposed to meet with.

The door opened automatically with her arrival, and she scanned the room to see Fury standing there, along with Stark, another man she knew only as Hawkeye, and Doctor Bruce Banner. "Welcome Ms. Stillman." Fury addressed her and pointed to a chair. "We need the update on how bad Mr. Miles really is."

Sighing, Lucy pulled a hand down her face. "I would say he was fine, but pardon my language, I'd be lying out of my ass." Brows raised around the room. "Desmond is experiencing what they call the Bleeding Effect. In essence, the memories of his ancestor are bleeding over into his mind, causing states of confusion, anger, paranoia, and various other mental disorders. His mind is tearing itself apart."

Silence filled the room as ths three men took in what she was saying. Banner was the first to speak. "Is there any way to reverse the damage done?"

Shaking her head, a vision of Clay came to her mind's eye. "Not that I know of. The only thing now is to contain the damage and teach him to use the skills he is absorbing from Altair."

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. "How long do we have until his mind caves in on itself? We still haven't found out what happened to the stone, and from intel I've been getting, others are searching for it as we speak."

"I can't give you a timeline. Other subjects that I have witnessed have had various stages of cognative deteriation. It could be a few weeks to several years until his mind is all but consumed by Altair, and Desmond is no longer. Or, he could completely lose his mind, and kill himself." Lucy knew it was going to happen. It was only a matter of when.

Stark stood and began to pace. "So, and don't sugar coat it, because of what we're doing, we just destroyed someone to find something."

Lucy knew what was going on, and why they were doing what they were doing. Yeah, she didn't like it, but knew the reason why. "This is a war, I know this. Some people die in war, and as much as I hate to see innocents die in war, it's part of it. We need to get his mind to the point in Altair's life that he hid the stone. Desmond has one of the best sync rates I have ever seen. Skipping a few memories might help, but I don't when it was hidden away."

"So we might have to go through the man's complete life." Hawkeye spoke up, and Lucy nodded. "Great."

Fury looked at the people in the room. "We give him a few days to rest. Lucy, Hawkeye, you are going to start training Desmond. Hone the skills that he's learning. I don't know why, but I have a feeling that we're going to need them to get to whatever we have to get to."

Clearly a dismissal, everyone filed out of the room. Hawkeye walked up next to her as she headed back towards the lab. "Looks like we're partners for right now." He gave her a small quirk of his lips.

"Guess we are." Lucy shook her head, not liking this idea one bit. "But don't thiink for a minute I'm a woman you can push over. I have been trained since I was little to be an assassin."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Fury watched them leave, and sat heavy in the chair. William Miles walked from the other room, mug of coffee in his hand. "Heard everything?" The director asked his old friend.

Sitting down, William nodded. "Enough to know that my son will never be the same after this. Nick, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Bill, I'm trying to get him out of this in one piece. That's why Lucy's in on this now. She's the only one outside of Abstergo that knows anything about the machine." And that took a lot of digging to find her. The woman had ran when the last person had killed themselves. Romanoff had found her in a small villa in the Italian countryside. Took a lot of convincing to get her to come back to the states.

The other man gave a nod, and silence once again fell around the room.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Dante breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled the amulet from the safe. "It's still here." His eyes looked upon the necklace, the icy metal chilling his fingers.

"Well, at least one thing's looking up." Trish leaned against the counter. "Dante, this is insane. Why the hell would your brother be doing something like this?"

That was a question he had been asking himself the whole way back. "I don't have a clue, but I do know he can't be allowed to follow this through. The whole world will burn if Mundus is allowed to live once more." And he felt a shiver run down his back. Just the thought of that demon summoned once more was enough to chill him to the core.

"So you're finally getting the big picture."

The two of them turned to see Morrison walk into the room, carryout cup of coffee in his hand. "You know what your brother is capable of, and you know he has to be stopped."

Sighing, Dante knew what was being said. "The problem is, he's harder to kill than most." Nods went around the room. "So do you have any suggestions?"

The older man nodded. "I do. You need to head to New York and seek out an old friend of mine. He has a team, and he knows ways of taking out people that are harder to kill."

"New York?" Trish asked, brow arched. "You got to be kidding me."

"And why would I do that about something like this? Virgil is trying to raise Mundus and is working with Oscorp to get what he wants. If, and I say if, that was to happen, the world as we know it is going to become Hell on Earth, and there's not going to be a damn person, half demon or not, that's going to be able to stop it." Morrison glared. "You want answers, go to New York and get everything that I can't tell you."

Stepping between the older man, and the blonde, Dante nodded. "I have a feeling we're not going to like this, but I will listen to you. If this turns out bad..." And the older man knew what he was implying.

"It won't, I assure you."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

New York City, the place where trouble always seemed to brew, but it was also home to many of the world's superheros. Villians were idiots for attacking the Big Apple, but they still did it. Peter Parker, aka Spiderman, watched the city from above.

It wasn't like they didn't know he wasn't there. Hell, with J. Jonah Jameson spitting his anti-Spiderman rants damn near every night, it wasn't hard for any New Yorker to know he was there. The man just didn't get it, and all he saw was another masked vigillante trying to take care of the growing crime problem in the city.

Growling a bit to himself, Parker used his webshooter to create a line to move to another building and across a large expanse. It was the same thing every night, and the nights that would follow. It wasn't like he was hurting anyone. Well, except the bad guys when he found them.

"_And another desaster created by that menace in the mask, Spiderman."_

Rolling his eyes, Parker clung to the side of a building, looking at the jumbo screen in Time Square. Jameson was at it again. Replays of the fight last night between himself and the Green Goblin, rolled on the screen. Osbourne had been up to something, looking for something, but had been foiled. He didn't know what the other man had been after in that warehouse, but after the explosion, there was no telling. No information could be found on what had been in the place, and every avenue that he had tried to go down to find anything had been a dead end.

"_Not only did he destroy property that was not his, he destroyed one of the vans owned by the Daily Bugle. The man is a menace, and must be stopped before he destroys every place in our fair city."_

"Oh come off it, you windbag!" Parker yelled at the screen, but knew it would do no good except for his own personal good. "Not like you can do any better."

Jameson went on his rant about how Spiderman had to be caught and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. "Mhh, mhh, mhh. Bleh!" Leaving the area behind, Parker swung through the city, keeping an eye out for anything that was out of place. All the while, thinking about his encounter with Osbourne and the events last night.

Something about it rubbed him wrong. Osbourne would have never done anything that stupid, like making a huge mess, unless... Shit! Parker came to a stop when it hit him. Standing on the edge of a building, he finally came to a conclusion that t had been a distraction. Something to keep him away from something else.

"You slick bastard." Parker mumbled as he shook his head. Now all he needed to do was figure out what was going down.


	6. Chapter 6

Altair looked down at the silk pouch in his hands. There was something about the stone inside that made him leery about even being in its presence, but also intrigued him to no end. The light it gave was beautiful, but also terrifying at the same time. The master assassin in him knew the jewel was dangerous and should be locked away, but the seeker of knowledge part of his mind wanted to know its secrets. To understand what it could do. He had to know if it was to help, or to hurt. To heal, or to bring destruction.

"Altair."

Looking up, the assassin watched his wife, Maria, walk into the room, holding a tray in her hands. Her blue eyes glared at him, as were her lips pulled down into a frown he knew all too well. She was about to yell at him, and she did not disappoint.

"You have been in here for the better part of the day. You must eat, and be with your family. That bauble and the Apple have all but consumed your mind of late." Her words held an edge to them, and Altair could hear the unspoken words. _If you do not do what I am saying, I will make your life a living hell, _and he knew for a fact that she would do it. It would have not been the first time. The tray was sat down on the desk with a bit more force than what was needed, rattling the contents.

A sigh past his lips as he ran a calloused hand down his face. "Maria, you do not understand. I must know if this 'bauble' as you call it, will destroy everything you, I, and Malik have been working for. I must know who created it, and for what."

The growl that came across her lips was one of anger, and the master assassin knew she did not like his response. "Now you listen to me Altair ibn-La'Ahad. You seal yourself away for days, trying in vain to figure out the mysteries of something you have no idea what you are playing with. You think you are doing something noble, and good, but what if all you are doing is bringing the destruction? What if you are opening yourself to an evil that has been sealed away?" Then her voice took another turn. One of fear. "You must stop this! Think of your men, who look to you like a father. That need your guidance. Think of your own sons, who need their true father." Her feet carried her to his side, and laid a hand on his slumped shoulders.

"You need to end this. You need to seal it away, along with the Apple, and be done with both." And he could feel the tremble in her fingers as they gripped his shoulder in fear. Fear for what he was doing. What he could unleash. Playing with something he knew nothing of.

Then he spoke the wrong words. "But I must know, Maria. I must understand these things to protect my men. To protect our sons."

Maria's hand left him, and with it the warmth that was once there. "Then you shall do this without help. I cannot stand by and watch it consume you, and everything we have been fighting for."

"Maria, please understand..." But his words fell on deaf ears.

"No." And she left him there, alone in his study, with the beautiful, but terrifying light as his only companion.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Cold sweat ran down his face as Desmond shot up from the memory that came in his sleep. Altair's emotions still filled him. The older man was terrified that he was about to lose it all for secrets that should have stayed buried. Something that should have never seen the light of day.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" The bartender whispered to the silent air, Arabic leaving his lips. The Bleeding Effect was getting worse, and he could feel it. The numbness where his left ring finger was. It felt like it wasn't his. Like it wasn't supposed to be there. Altair's memories bleeding into his. Just like the training, the fighting, the ability to see what he could not at one time. Eagle Vision was what Lucy had called it. She told him that he might be able to use it one day with the right training, but what Desmond hadn't told her was he already could.

As a child he had been able to use it a bit. It helped reduce the scariness of the night, but as for what he could do now that he had the right memories. Well, let's just say, it was more that what he could have ever thought. People could be considered friend or foe just by a glance. A trail hidden from another was opened for him. He could track anyone he so wished, but that wasn't the scariest part. No, the part that brought his blood to a standstill was a memory of Altair's. Al Mualim was blue, until his betrayal. He never showed signs of being an enemy.

So a sight have could be fooled by a few words, and good thoughts was scary at best. Could all the people around him be out to get him? Could they be waiting for him to lead them to the stone, then to turn around and kill him? Desmond knew too much now to ever be free, and he knew that. He would never see the light of day once more. No, he would never be allowed to leave this tower alive, but he was going to change that. Starting now.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Rodgers' head bounced painfully off the passenger side window, causing him to bite down on the very edge of his tongue. Blood weld up in his mouth, threatening to choke him with its coppery taste. Romanoff sped through the Miami streets, tires eating up the pavement, trying to lose their tail. But it wasn't working. The men stuck to them like glue, causing the woman behind the wheel to drive in ways that made him wish for a bag to throw up in.

"Since we're being chased through the city, mind telling what we're being chased for?" He asked, putting his hand up to prevent his head from hitting the glass once more.

Natasha turned another corner, sliding the car sideways, tires screaming at the trajectory of the rear end. She made the turn, righted the wheel, and downshifted, getting more speed out of the engine. "It's a file on a project called 'Operation Strongbow'. Back in the early part of World War Two, Hydra found one of the artifacts we now know as Pieces of Eden." She grunted as the wheel was jerked once more, sending them down another side road, and began to talk once more.

"They had found an orb. It was said that it acted like the Tesseract but with less killing power. It was a power source, but different. It could give the wielder the ability to look into another mind, much like the Animus."

This was all going over his head. He could never keep up with the new technology that was out. Hell, he could barely work the cellphone that he'd been given. Grabbing onto the door to keep himself from tumbling over onto her when another corner was taken, he sighed. "What to dumb it down a bit?"

Sparing him a glance, Natasha began once more. "Fine, but try to keep up. The orb was able to look into other minds. It was not only able to get into their heads, but was able to control the subjects. Turn them into mindless slaves. They had ultimate power at their fingertips, but not all could wield the orb. Most were consumed by it, and deemed too dangerous to use without the right person."

He began to catch on. "They began to look for that person."

Romanoff nodded as she drove the car at breakneck speeds towards the Keys. "They were close, but the person they were looking for hadn't been born yet. Not at that time anyway."

"So who were they looking for?" He asked, watching the surrounding building fly by.

Swerving around a slower moving car, she hit the gas harder. "Hydra came across some records from an assassin by the name of Ezio Auditore. He lived in Florence in the early part of the sixteenth century. It was a journal kept by him documenting many things about ancients, goddesses, and a man that was supposed to receive a message by the name of Desmond. Fury caught wind of this from a contact, and sent us in to get that file."

Looking at the aged file in his lap, Rodgers touched the yellowed edges. "So what else is supposed to be in here?" It wasn't looking good.

Before she could answer, the window behind them shattered in a spray of glass, causing them both to duck and the car to swerve across the road, nearly taking out another car. "We have to get rid of them."

Shaking his head, Rodgers grabbed one of the guns from her holster, turned in his seat, and with one shot, he watched with a smirk, they began to slow as steam rolled from their destroyed radiator. "You were saying?"

Glaring darkly, Romanoff tightened her grip on the wheel. "You know, you could have done that before they chased us through the city."

"No I couldn't." He countered, returning the gun to its home. "Too many turns, and too many innocents that could have been hit. I wouldn't take that chance."

"Boy Scout." He heard her mutter under her breath, causing him to smile.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Fury rubbed his temple in an effort to rid the pain in his head. "I'll see them when they get here." He spoke into the phone, getting a brow raise from William.

Once the phone was sat down, the Grandmaster looked at him. "Someone else coming?" he asked.

Nodding once, Fury stood and looked out over the city. "Two people. An ex agent, and good friend of mine, JD Morrison, is sending me people that think they have information on a larger problem." This was turning into something even he didn't know about, and that was only a handful of things.

Before either one could speak once more, two people barged into his office. The first was Spider-man, aka Peter Parker, and the other was another ex-agent turned super hero, Carol Danvers, Miss Marvel. "Director, we have a problem." She looked at William, nodded her head, and continued. "I have seen it with my own eyes, and it's a big one."

"Ha! Osbourne is up to something, and its not good I can assure you. He's been going around town causing distractions..." Parker looked over at her when she cut him off.

"That pales in comparison to what's coming, Peter. This is bigger than anything right now." The woman growled.

Fury ground his teeth. " I really don't have time for this."

Danvers slapped a picture on his desk. "You need to make time. Thanos is on his way here. We're all about to be ass deep in trouble, and New York is ground zero for his arrival."

Picking up the photo, he studied it. "Are you sure, Carol?"

She nodded. "I'm sure, Nick. This trumps Osbourne, the assassins," looking at William, she addressed him, "No offense, Bill, but it does."

William held up his hands. "I believe you. It's not often you barge into a private meeting."

"Alright, you have my undivided attention." Fury knew that the woman would not have done what she had done if it wasn't extremely important.

Danvers went to open her mouth, but Jarvis spoke. _"Director sir, you have two guests. They say they were sent here by a Mister Morrison."_

A groan escaped his lips as he knew what this was about. Now was not the time for that man to be sending him anyone. "I'll send someone down to get them in a few minutes."

"_I will deliver your message right away. Who would you like me to send down for them?" _

"Send Hawkeye if he's around. If not, see if Stark will bring them up." Not his first choice, or his second, but Romanoff was still off who knows where. The com had gone black a few hours ago, but that wasn't surprising. The woman was always doing things like that. Even with Rodgers with her.

Turning back to the ex-agent, he sat heavily in his chair. "Now, before there's anymore interruptions, you might what to say what needs to be said, and quickly."

**Oh dear heaven and Earth! This chapter was a pain to write. I would sit down, and everything I was thinking of would leave in a puff of smoke. It took me almost a month to write. Well, we now have Ms. Marvel in the picture, Dante and Trish have made it to Manhattan, and Thanos is on his way. More will be revealed about what was found in Miami, and what the hell does Desmond have planned now? Tune in next time. (I promise it won't be as long of a wait.)**

**Sassiersphinx81**


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